Crimson Artist

by silent-star-maiden

Benjamin's judgment is clouded once he starts living with an FBI intern. Romance clouds reasoning. {This is the worlds worst summary, and it will be corrected later; just know that this is a story that has multiple serial killers, blood and death}

1. Chapter 1

Hello! This is my first time uploading a story. And I'm actually having a hard understanding the website, so sorry if something looks a little weird.

Now I know that the chapter is a little short, but I plan on splitting up each p.o.v. change as it's own mini chapter, so please bare with me.

Thank you!

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I stood staring at the pool of crimson with a small smile. It was the perfect shade that I needed. I painted a rose on the wall with the paintbrush that I had brought with me. My gloved hands were careful, just like that of a true artist's.

I looked at the ugly whore at my feet. Something just had to be done about her. I rifled through her closet and found a light blue sundress, which still had the tags on, and a pair of slightly scuffed white heels.

After cleaning the excess blood from her neck, I changed her from her filthy clothes to the sundress, and placed her feet into the heels. Earlier I had found a strand of pearls, those I placed around her now clean neck. I cleaned her face of that horrid makeup she used, and replaced it with a simple but beautiful new look. I dragged her body across the living room, moving her to the chair that had it's back to the window.

I stepped back to admire my work with another gentle smile. Perfect. I grabbed my shoes from beside the door. Once in my car I took off the plastic bags covering my sock clad feet, and put them in my glove compartment, making a note to properly dispose of them later. I put my shoes back on, and drove off from the side of the rode. I looked back in the rear view mirror, and smiled.